Phonecall
by Mysteriol
Summary: Tokyo and Moscow weren’t exactly that far. Just separated by a phoneline and number. — kai, tala. FRIENDSHIP.


PHONECALL;;

Tokyo and Moscow weren't exactly that far. Just separated by a phoneline and number. [friendship]

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* * *

Kai was bloody tired when he spoke into the phone.

It was nearly three in the morning. But there was no way he was hanging up, because he needed help in his Russian History homework, and the best person who could lend assistance was the person he was speaking to at this moment, also the same person who was simultaneously absolutely doing _everything _in his power not to help.

Instead, Tala busied himself talking about the snowman he and Ian had helped build today, how Spencer was an epic failure in trying to make Christmas cookies for the upcoming festive season, and how Bryan helped mess up the entire kitchen when he accidentally tripped over the sugar bowl and—well, you know what.

Not like it bothered Kai that much. It had been three days since the pair of friends had caught up with each other on the phone, anyway. So much has happened, and Kai had droned on too, about the last half hour, about how Tyson and Max nearly killed each other over dinner today. Also updating Tala about Hilary and Tyson's romantic progress.

"What do you mean, they haven't made a move? So Tyson is world champ, preaches friendship to the media, and cannot ask a girl out?"

"...Who knows what goes in that blubbering idiot's mind."

"When I come back, Kai, we've got to do something."

He realized he was comfortably sprawled out on his bed, laptop before him, paper thesis for his History work left undone still; word processor blinking blankly before him. He supported the phone with his shoulder, tried to pluck a dead strand of hair out from his blue messy dishevelled hair. He was half-naked on his bed, wearing nothing but black shorts, something he seldom did unless he was feeling really, really comfortable, and in the mood to retreat into his own private space.

Tonight, well, this morning, anyway, he was. Letting his guard completely down, that is.

Not like they were running out of topics, even after having been speaking to each other for the past two and a half hours.

They had covered their disgust for cheese, Tyson, beyblade, Dranzer being a chicken, Wolborg being an overgrown dog, bashing Ian up when they had the chance, Tyson and Hilary, Kenny being a dork, Bryan and Spencer commonly being occasional asses, Max being too happy, _fucking _History homework, _Christmas, Christmas, Christmas---_

"Maybe we'll come over for Christmas."

Kai was resting on his stomach, launching 3D pinball on his laptop.

Outside, festive lights flooded the streets. Today, he was staying over in a hotel out in the Tokyo streets. The Christmas ambience here was perfect.

"Funny, I was thinking the same thing." He told Tala.

"Thinking what?"

"That I should go over—To Russia this Christmas."

"No way. It's freezing-your-arse up here, Kai."

"You saying I can't take it?"

He groaned inwardly at the pinball sinking into the blackhole, signalling his loss.

"Nah, it's just—Ian's really been whining to go to Tokyo because he can't stand the cold, and—are you playing pinball?"

Kai wasn't surprised. His laptop was muted. But somehow, Tala always had a way with reading his mind, or movements, even being literal continents away.

"Yeah, I am." Kai paused, and relaunched his ball. "Wait, don't tell me—you're wearing your ugly Spongebox Squarepants boxers, and stealing Ian's Hershey chocolate bars again, aren't you?"

He could feel Tala grin into the phone. Unmistakably.

"You stupid fuck. My boxers are not ugly. Do I have to remind you of your black Mashi Maros—"

"Shut up." Kai deadpanned. "It was Spencer's---"

"Yeah, yeah, you trying to tell me Spencer's laundry ended up in your wardrobe so you happened to take it. Very creative, Kai."

Kai lost another match. He was playing poorly. Then again, he was never feeling this sleep-deprived, and in dire need to complete his History homework like now. He closed his pinball browser, and leant back in his pillows, shifting in his blankets and adjusting the phone so it sat nicely against his ear. He had to constantly switch from the left and right ear—didn't want to get ear burns now, would he.

His laptop desktop background stared back at him.

His sleepy eyes grazed them, and he let out a yawn. "Hn."

The wallpaper of him and Tala, standing side by side as tagteam partners facing some random opponents in the beydish, stared back at hiim.

He had chanced upon that picture when he was combing the internet, and the official beyblading website had posted their previous tournament pictures online. Someone, maybe a spontaneous fangirl, had nicely photoshopped their candid moments, and he had saved it to his desktop background.

Miles away, he knew Tala had his laptop wallpaper staring right back at him with the same picture.

It made him smile lazily a bit.

Smile---something he seldom did. Proof that he was definitely letting his guard down this instant. Top taken off, nothing on but his black shorts and navy blue briefs, laptop before him, white blankets nestling him cosily, History homework flickering in his laptop, having emptied chocolate energy bars one after another, three in the morning—

And most of all, with that phone against his ear, speaking to Tala, having spoken to for nearly....oh, three hours now,

Kai sighed, and dropped his head onto his pillow.

Without a doubt.

Not like he cared. Wasn't like Tyson or some random Beybladers would pop in now and laugh at his exposed form – figuratively and emotionally. Not like it bothered that much that he felt suddenly nude, and vulnerable. And sensitive. And private. And personal.

Talking on the phone with someone who had known you since you were in diapers – alright, maybe not that bad, but somewhere along there, plus a few more years, who had grown up with you and seen you in worse states no thanks to some sick sod of a bastard named Boris out there ---- this was comfortable and easy and ....familiar, like hell.

Familiar, as in, warm, and familiar.

Like---

"You falling asleep?"

"Naw...." Kai closed his eyes.

He listened to Tala droned on more about Wolborg, what he was going to do tomorrow (train in the snow...toss Ian out into the blizzard...kill some sick sods if they shovel snow in their apartment again...), purposefully poked fun of him and his Spongebox boxers again and his entire wardrobe of cartoonish boxers (courtesy of the Blitzkrieg Boys who learnt of Tala's weird fashion affection for childish underwear and bought them for him as birthday and Christmas presents sometimes over the years), telling him to please stop stealing Ian's sweets because the midget was going to get mad again---

Kai ran a hand through his hair. It was messy like crazy. Dishevelled. No gel, no wax. Nothing. Just....naturally the Hiwatari hairdo. Unkempt, undone.

He heard Tala yawn.

He didn't know the time there. Didn't bother.

Phonecalls between them could be in the mornings, nights, afternoon, middays--- it suited either Tala or Kai's preference, and the other never complained. It was for convenience's sake, and both knew how their friendship thrived on that kind of spontaneity.

"Before you fall asleep---" Kai stared blearily at his homework.

"Am not falling asleep, Blue."

"Well..."

"Well, what?"

"I guess I'll be seeing some snow this Christmas."

Pregnant pause.

Kai—subtle as ever.

"Hn." Kai curled in into foetus position. He closed his eyes. Hugged his phone to the ear, then bolster to his chest.

He didn't know how high phonebills in Moscow could get. He doubted Tala cared.

Their record was six hours and seven minutes. Tala was the one who spent the night awake, chattering mindlessly in the phone. It was Kai's birthday then. They had spoken from Tyson and his dorkiness....to even Salima's crush for Ray...and then...somehow Miguel and Brooklyn had come into the picture....he couldn't remember much anymore. Except they started talking about caterpillars, and spiders, and then some abbey days memories again and---

Shortest phone session was probably five minutes. When Kai called, and Tala had to rush off to repair the goddamn toilet that Ian choked up. He had called back two hours later, when it was Kai's bedtime, and they had chatted till one in the morning. (And whoever said this pair of tagteam partners were socially and verbally challenged were sorely mistaken.)

"....So." Tala replied.

"So."

Silence.

"We'll be waiting then." Tala said.

Kai's lips hinted of an uncharacteristic smile.

He could picture Tala's exact similar expression too.

It made something in his heart swim.

Joy? Happiness. Whatever. All that 'emotions are useless' mantra that Boris indoctrinated in them made him incapable of telling one positive emotion to the next. So...really, whatever.

"Ian can't wait to challenge you on Street Fighter IV."

"...So I guess he persuaded you to buy the video game console anyhow."

A chortle. "You try taking on a big-nosed midget who spends five hours going 'pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease' and you tell me you will not be forced to do so?"

Kai said solemnly. Purposefully. "I understand."

He was falling asleep, and deciphering from Tala's trailing voice, he wondered if it was the red head's influence on him, or vice versa...or maybe they both were just supremely tired.

Then again, it didn't matter. It used to be freaky – how Tala could sometimes read his thoughts. And in time, he came to realize they were sometimes perfectly attuned to each other's moods and behaviors. Now, he just boiled it down to telepathy....maybe growing up with someone for seven years under the same environment could do wonders to cultivate that kind of connection. Whatever.

"Yeah..." Tala was mumbling now. "And...when you come over...I'd advise you to be careful...about Bry...make you cook dinner...fucking sphagetti...and Spence..."

Kai could see darkness ahead of him now. He could only make out a bit of Tala's words. They still sounded like gibberish.

Blankets hurled messily arund his half-naked figure, Kai Hiwatari never looked so vulnerable. So...boyish.

Succumbing to sleep, he was unaware of fisting sheets in one hand, the other still subconsciously holding the phone to his ear – his crescent eyelids closing in slumber.

Unconscious of snoring softly into the phone, never hearing of the similar snores that elicited from the other end of the line as well, both boys slept soundly.

History homework undone, laptops across continents with the same wallpapers as their desktop backgrounds, cordless phones left switched on – and will be, overnight ----

Tokyo and Moscow never seemed closer.

**OWARIDA;;;**

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A/N:

Absurd amount of cheesiness, OOCness (yes I know . fully aware of that---)

But wth.

In lieu of the festive season—who does care...right? right? Heh.

Reviews are appreciated like awesome christmas gifts. And they don't cost a thing! :D


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